


Exasperation

by Oft



Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Gender or Sex Swap, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oft/pseuds/Oft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron can't seem to keep his hands off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The soft hiss of the control room door filtered into the room, buried under the reverberations of so many programs talking at once, hunkered around the table that was the city disply. Sectors of the building shapes blinked red around the periphery, and Tron was tapping out individual orders. Each order was immediately follwed by a pair of guards leaving the table and heading for the door. Dyson came through, barely registering the sudden surprise on the faces of the two guards as they passed him on the way to their duty. He made his way down the steps into the room from the doorway, closing the space in short order. The programs on the opposite side of the table stuttered to silence, and Tron smacked the table for attention as Dyson stopped just behind him, sternly watching the guards as they took their orders then also vacated the control room.

Tron finally straightened up, only three other guards still around the table, poking at information logs around the display as he turned to face Dyson. His eyes went wide for a moment as he looked over Dyson. 

'I'm going to assume . . . that the emergency interrupted something?' He gestured at Dyson's obviously altered codeform, very much more feminine than his usual self. Dyson merely glared at Tron. Tron tried and failed to not look over Dyson again. Dyson cut a very nice lithe female form. Still obviously himself, but a bit softer.

'Yes.' Dyson's voice was lighter, but that characteristic terseness carried as he approached the table. 'I didn't have time to change back.' He reached forward and swung the digital framework of the problem area around to get a better view of it, logging which areas already had units deployed. 'What exactly is it that you needed to call me off of downcycle for?' Dyson leaned forward, and Tron caught himself sliding a little closer. 'And don't you EVEN think about it.' Dyson didn't turn to him, but there was no mistake who he meant. The remaining guards were doing their best to not snicker.

'HEY. You three have your orders too.' Tron snapped a little at them, and grins dropped as the three focused on their datastreams. 'It's nothing severe, but it's too spread out for just a couple of teams to take care of.' He turned and leaned hipwards against the table, crossing his arms as he studied Dyson again. 'I didn't know you were even interested in codeswitch . . . ' Dyson stood straight once more and returned Tron's gaze.

'It's not for you.' Tron's eyebrows went up. Dyson heard a single snicker from one of the guards, but ignored it.

'I didn't say it was.'

'I know you. And you'll make it so if I let you have your way.' They stared at each other for a long nano. 'THAT'S not happening. We have work to do.' Dyson turned on his heel to exit the room again, adjusting the shoulder latch of his armor as he strode away. Tron was close behind, mesmerized by the unexpected sway of Dyson's currently curvy hips before stopping to obtain an extra weapons baton from the wall armory, then joining him in the lift.

The lift was silent as it travelled down. Tron finally leaned aside and set his chin against Dyson's shoulder.

'Can I at least watch?' A huge grin covered his face as Dyson elbowed him off with an exasperated huff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As usual, Tron got his way. 

Slow moments between shifts in the security breach and containment found Tron's fingers sliding against and teasing Dyson's hip nodes, eventually breaking down even Dyson's legendary willpower. Tron couldn't quite get over how well the feminine codeform fit Dyson, with the other program's characteristic mannerisms and quirks translated over with a little extra sweep and flair that came with a curvier body. So, every chance that came along, Tron had his hands on Dyson, much to Dyson's aggravation. Tron took all the grumbling and threats with a bit of humor till they finished their duties.

The last words Dyson managed to utter past a kiss were 'you're going to pay for this', then he was giving in and pulling Tron closer while locking the lift up partway into the ascent back to the control hub, and Tron made sure Dyson didn't have the chance for payback before he was finished dragging them both along a stream of electric ecstacy right into overload.


	2. Chapter 2

Several millicycles of strict no-touch from Dyson after their liason in the lift, Tron finally pulled back on his insistance for another go. Not that it didn't seem like Dyson wasn't interested, but more like Dyson wasn't interested when he wasn't in a codeswitched body. No amount of teasing or asking or borderline begging from Tron would sway the blackguard on his decision, though at one point he finally, seemingly relented and told Tron to wait until both of their off-cycles coincided.

So here he was, in some small, cozy recharge station; it was dark, almost hazy with dark lights and open space split into private alcoves. There was service, sirens and servers drifting through the space, attending to whatever patrons needed it, but it was nothing like the energy of a bar or a club. It pinged an almost long-forgotten sensation in him, tied so close to his ancient user-worship, and Tron felt his mood starting to spiral down instead of gearing into the expectant bit of fun he was hoping for.

Four drinks later, he was still waiting on Dyson, but he finally decided the blackguard wasn't showing, and added an extra glass to the building numbness swimming through his circuits before leaving. He had barely finished downing the liquid, and was on course to returning the glass to its waiting holder when the familiar lights of his lieutenant came into focus in front of him. Dyson was still in his usual body, and Tron huffed.

'I guess we're not playing tonight, then.' He turned the glass in his hand then leaned forward to signal the server to retrieve it. Dyson grinned slightly.

'Oh, we're playing tonight, I just had to get a few things ready, and it took a bit longer than expected. Too long, judging by your condition.' Dyson eyed Tron's circuits, wavering between white and murky blue like light on liquid, sign that the drinks had done their job. 'I think it's time for us to leave.' Tron tried to stand and wobbled, and Dyson stepped forward to steady him, throwing one of Tron's arms over his shoulder. Tron held his ground and stared at Dyson.

'You don't really much like me in that sense, do you?' Dyson knew exactly what Tron was referring to, and bit back his initial response. Tron pulled Dyson in a little closer. 'Don't lie to me, please.'

'I don't like that you're so pushy about it. We'll talk about this somewhere else.' Dyson nudged Tron into motion, keeping him stable as they left the station and entered the lively street. Dyson insisted on transportation instead of walking with Tron's wobbliness growing more apparent.

The ride to Dyson's choice of location was only slightly awkward with Tron staring blearily at Dyson, and Dyson staring out the window. At some point halfway through their trip, Tron's fingers found their way to the strip of light across the back of Dyson's shoulder, playing one finger at a time, back and forth over the indent of the blackguard's armor. Dyson continued to ignore him, but his circuit still reacted to Tron's insistant attention, slipping into the barest lavender where Tron touched.

'So, what do you want me to do for this little engagement?' Tron's fingers started tracing their way closer along the track to Dyson's disc.

'I want you to behave. At least until we get there.' Dyson still didn't move his attention away from the window. Tron took that as a signal to keep his hands to himself, and shifted his arm back along the top of the seat, breaking the contact. He continued to watch Dyson though, observing the patch of lavender shift back into regulation white.

Their course was into the city periphery, almost at the edge of the undercity, past a couple of checkpoints and over a section junction bridge, then they were there. Where 'there' was, Tron was not familiar with, but apparently Dyson was. Cursory scanning of the area let on that it was little more than storage blocks, devoid of a lot of foot traffic and display lights. The sky was limited to a view straight overhead, into the heart of a stormcloud and its blocky lighting. His attention was retrieved by Dyson tapping his arm and pointing him to a trio of sirens waiting for them outside of an open door.

'Sirens? That's pretty basic . . '

'You have no idea what *my* sirens do. They're not the game sirens, and they definitely aren't limited to service subroutines.' Dyson pushed Tron forward as the taller program reevaluated the trio, wondering what exactly their specialty subroutines could possibly be. The three shuffled the two programs inside, locking the passageway down from any outside interruptions, and they were greeted by a fourth siren, almost as tall as Tron himself. She smiled widely as she threaded her arm through Tron's, making a swift exploratory survey of his body as she did so.

'You're a little wound up. How many drinks did you take?' She was almost amused as she tracked a finger over his still shifting colors. 

'Fou . . . five. I was left waiting for a some time.' Tron turned back and eyed Dyson, who was more involved with one of the other sirens, who nodded as he spoke to her. The siren on Tron's arm pulled his attention back.

'Well, this will be worth it, I promise you.' Her wide smile was infectious, and Tron found himself grinning back, his free hand coming up to stroke over the circuits on hers. 'I am Sai. I'm usually a service siren, but I'm head of Dyson's little flock when I am off-duty.' Tron's eyebrows went up.

'Flock? How does Dyson have personal sirens when I can't even . . .' Sai shook her head.

'You misunderstand. Dyson belongs to US, not the other way around.' She loosened her grip from around his arm and stood in front of him. Her hands came up in front of her, palms up. 'Disc, please.' It took Tron a nano to comprehend what she asked for, then he obliged, removing it from his dock and placing it in her hands. She walked away, another of the sirens joining her as they left, ducking into an adjoining room. Dyson soon was at his side again and Tron turned to face him.

'YOU. Belong to sirens?' Dyson shrugged and smiled. It was an enigmatic thing that Tron couldn't read. 'Tell me the truth- what did you plan?'

'It's not what *I* planned, though I did have input.' Tron looked over his shoulder to the two sirens waiting to the side, giggling between themselves, then back to Dyson. Dyson just grinned a little wider. Sai returned, disc in hand, and she motioned at Tron to turn around. She clicked his disc into place and he felt the ping of recode hit, giving him just a moment to give Dyson a look of wide-eyed surprise, then he was lost to the black of reboot.

Tron woke with a start 30 nanos later, his body shifting strangely as he swung himself upright. His first instinct was to look for Dyson, taking note as he looked that he was not in the same room he started in, this one gently lit with purple and green lighting, and that he sat amidst soft cushions. Then it dawned on him why his body shifted strangely. His legs were the first giveaway, still long, but much less stocky, and more tapered down to the ankle. He groaned once it dawned on him that Dyson finally made good on his threat, and apparently made sure Tron's newly codeswitched form was particularly . . . curvy.

He was only halfway through the process of getting to his feet when his internal relays pinged, signal that someone needed his attention on a security matter. He groaned again and almost responded when Dyson came back into Tron's area of attention, helping him to his feet while holding back another of his ludicrous grins.

'Looks like we have to get back to duty. Some small . . . emergency. And no time to change back! Looks like we'll have to take care of it afterwards.' Tron nearly elbowed Dyson as a reply to the other program's joke, but the move came at a sudden unexpected shift in his balance and he found himself down in the cushions again in an ungainly sprawl.

'Remind me never to piss you off again,' Tron muttered as he tried clambering back to his feet. 'Is the emergency YOUR joke, or . . '

'No, it's real.' Dyson reached down to pull Tron back to his feet. 'And shift your center of gravity upwards. You're more topheavy like this.' He still stifled a grin as he stood back to give Tron a little room to adjust and take into account how much more weight his newly ample chest added, and as they both headed for the doorway, Dyson took the chance to land the flat of his palm against Tron's ass, stroking the circuits downward. 

'Payback is terrible, isn't it?' Tron tried glowering at his lieutenant, but failed, only eliciting a solid laugh from Dyson.

The sudden turn of duty drew even more surprise from other programs when Tron arrived, but his usual 'get to work' demeanor brought the extra attention to an abrupt halt. The emergency turned out to be little more than a little extra trouble brought about by anti-ISO sentiment in a production quadrant, and that was quickly quashed by the arrival of extra security. Only when the definite end of duty passed and they were well on their way back did Dyson pull the same stunt on him that Tron had earlier; hands all over Tron's receptors, fingers enticing out sighs and hiccuped gasps and the definite turn of purple all through Tron's circuitry. 

They were barely out of the vehicle and past the door when Tron pulled Dyson against him and kissed him hard, nudging Dyson's hands to pull him closer, to hold him tight, and roll his hips, lodging his hardness against the new circuitry input locations that came with Tron's feminine form. There was the definite shuffle of bodies and hands and mouths and then they were a tangle of limbs buried in those cushions, Dyson securing the attention of his sirens to add to the pile and the intense sensations flooding Tron as armor and undersuit were removed and more than just fingers delved in, interfacing with circuits buried deep between Tron's spread thighs. 

Tron's older energy protocols, even with the upgrade of the new system, took priority, tumbling each of the sirens into cascading overloads first, leaving him and Dyson still active, clawing at each other to race to their own finish. Dyson was the first to fall over that edge into the white noise of overload, face buried at Tron's slender neck, sucking absently at the collar circuits there as he came, his hands sliding down and over and cupping circuits along the curve of breast and waist and thigh, then Tron fell as well, bucking up and tightening around Dyson, following the lieutenant into the renergizing lull of reboot.

Reboot took longer for Tron, given that Dyson had the codeform mod removed while Tron still lay unconscious, and Tron woke curled up between a couple of the sirens, their gentle attention bringing him not just back online but back to realigning his interface. Dyson eventually interrupted them, bringing the more casual encounter to an end. Tron groaned in dismay at having to roll away, knowing it was well past time to return to duty. 

The return trip ton the security tower was just as silent as the trip away, but it was anything but awkward this turn. Tron dared to venture another question to Dyson.

'Any chance of this happening again?' His expression was almost expectant. Dyson donned that unreadable grin again, waiting a long lull before answering.

'Not a single one.'


End file.
